Interstellar Blues
by MurmursOfTime
Summary: One last trip through space... [ONESHOT] [M JUST TO BE SAFE] [DO NOT READ IF DEALING WITH DEPRESSION/SELF-HARM/SUICIDAL TENDENCIES!]


Kirby yawned as he rode on his warp star. It had been not so long ago he had traveled through the Milky Way with his friends, but...this was not one of those times. This was a solo trip through the vast, yet depressing cosmos. All alone. By himself. He sniffled once, then twice. His stomach made a faint rumbling noise. Cake would seem awfully delightful now. Crispy sponge cake topped with melting frosting and sweet strawberries...

Kirby shook his head. This wasn't about food. Was he really a protector of Popstar...

...Or a monster?

He didn't see any other argument. Other than a few others he've grown attached to (well, not all of them) there wasn't any other else like him. And he possessed infinite power, as he could kill. And he certainly did, on more than one occasion. Those Waddle Dees that ended up in his stomach...

Kirby recoiled. Absolutely disgusting! And no one seemed to care? Then he yawned and screamed, as the unrelenting tiredness started to overcome him. He couldn't. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want to be a monster. But he didn't know how to be loved. How could anyone love him?

He found no purpose. A lack of understanding. Pain. Suffering, boring, abysmal pain. Were those other monsters really monsters, or he was just one of them and it was a pitiful game of friendly fire? Then something hit him.

Ribbon.

She was the only one who truly loved him. But that wasn't enough. Everyone was either begrudging, rude, or simply didn't want to go near him. But he knew why they felt like that. He was a monster, through and through. He just didn't belong. Why would Ribbon love him? She was a fairy, and he was an abomination from the darkest corners of space. Another thing hit him. This time, it was a rock. He got hold of it and eyed it closely. Gray, with a few sharp edges. _Sharp enough,_ he thought. With slight hesitation, he moved it towards his other nub, and started to rub the edges on it.

Painful, yet satisfying.

After 3 more rubs, crimson liquid started to trickle down the wounds. Kirby teared up. What did he just do? Grunting, he rubbed faster, more blood coming out. This was agony! It hurt more than laser beams or cuts from blades. Yet it felt so fulfilling! He had to let it all out, and this was the way. Then he lunged the meteorite into the cheek, as a _chk_ noise invaded his senses. From that moment he lost himself in a wave of suffering satisfaction. He laughed hysterically as a small trail of blood came out of his mouth, tears running down his cheeks.

Then, he stopped. He threw the rock away, where it hit another rock making both explode in a fit of flames. Kirby grew tired again as the rush of euphoria faded away. If he wasn't so sleepy, he might've hit his other cheek. But now he just wanted to sleep, safe and sound. As he did, he breathing grew faint, and he started to cough. Why now? Why, when he was feeling like cutting trash?

He couldn't take it any longer. The agony, the suffering, the stigma. No one truly loved him after all. Ribbon, or the king, or anyone else would never love a self-harming piece of fluff like him. They'd scream, run away, or even kill him. Maybe he was better off killed. Monsters should be killed. They were whiny little freaks, just like him. No...everyone was a monster. They always whine about evil threatening Popstar or cake being stolen. Pitiful, boring, evil monsters. One in the same. He was a special kind of monster himself. One that didn't deserve all the love he got. Looking up, he saw another rock, this time with sharper edges. Smiling, he picked it up and squeezed it. A lovely kind of pain.

Sadistically, he made a gash on his other nub, more blood gushing out into space. The blood that came down his mouth became faster, and another rush of elation hit him like before. He finally felt happy, releasing his sorrow. All this liquid gushing down, filling his senses with mindless hysteria...beautiful.

But when he was done, he felt empty. Was it really worth it, to throw sense down the drain? All because he got a kick out of self-harm? Monsters, all together...He hated it. He didn't want this. He deserved to die. He didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want to be with others monsters. He wanted to die. He wanted to be ended. Blood rushing down, he cried. Hard. Painful cries begging for released could be heard across the cosmos. Choking sobs. Hiccuping gasps. Mindless wailing. No, no, _no!_

He went silent. It was time to end it. Time to be released. Time for everyone to love him, and remember him fondly. Even after all the trouble he caused them, it would be right. One last slice of cake before a goodbye.

With a single gasp, he released his grip onto the warp star and fell through the endless cosmos, as he took one last breath.


End file.
